


Your Last Night of Freedom

by RovingTiger



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Humor, Pre-Vaduz, Pub Crawl, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 18:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1992534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RovingTiger/pseuds/RovingTiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Douglas convinces Martin to have a Stag Do before the royal wedding; just Martin, Douglas and Arthur out on the town. Hilarity ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Last Night of Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit naughty seeing as I've not finished my previous Cabin Pressure fic yet, but I've got some good ideas to run on later here. Updates will probably be semi-regular. Hope y'all enjoy.

                "Oh, here's a good one, Martin. Foodstuffs that sound like Bond Girls."

                Martin stared over the Mediterranean, thinking hard and drumming his fingers on the control column. "Nothing yet. You go first, Douglas."

                "Ryvita Thins?"

                "Good start, although it sounds a bit like a great aunt. What about Jammy Dodgers?"

                "Well, maybe in a French accent."

                "Jami Dodgeres?"

                Douglas nodded. "Well, Captain Du Creff, as much as your French accent needs work, that sounds suitably exotic. Although with the French grammar, Dodgere Jami also works."

                "Yes, that's better. Strawberry Mousse?"

                "Good, although oddly familiar. Ginger Snaps."

                "Nice. Meg, Meg, err... Meg McMuffin?"

                "A decent effort and a better pun," said Douglas, "but neither an accurate nor a sexy name. Oh, I've got a really good one."

                "Go on then."

                "Caramel Nibbles." Douglas leant back smugly. If he had a mike, or had been familiar with conventions of hip hop performance, he would have dropped it.

                "Oh come on, that's perfect. You had that prepared, didn't you? I was going to go with Peach Fuzz, but that's not quite right, is it."

                Douglas peered at the instruments. "Well, we've got another forty minutes before we reach Bologna, I'm sure you'll think of something. Although first, Martin, I do need to talk to you about..."

                Martin immediately flew into a panic. "Oh God, I knew this would happen. If you don't want to be my best man that's fine, it just it's you or Simon, and his moustache might put me off and I'll say something stupid, and you know that Arthur will do something well meaning but horrific, and then..."

                "No Martin, I've told you, I want to do it. I'm extremely honoured to be asked. And besides, I like to think I've got the hang of weddings now after so many of my own. And if our last royal wedding was anything to go by, I am immensely looking forward to playing the best man card with the bridesmaids.  I've got the bare bones of a truly stunning speech, and I've sorted out most of the rest of the sundry details with Theresa and the Vaduz end of things. So, as I'm sure you know, the only thing left for me to do is..." Douglas raised an eyebrow.

                "No Douglas," Martin said, "we discussed this, I don't want a stag night. It's a terrible idea."        

                "Rubbish! It's the best part of the whole charade! I'm not expecting you to tour every bar and club in Soho with a group of capital L 'Lads' in matching printed t-shirts, or to go bloody paintballing! Just try and get a pint down at every pub in Fitton. At least every decent pub anyway, by which I mean the ones which don't have a flat roof."

                "But I'll be hungover for the wedding day, and I'll be flying to Vaduz that morning."

                "No, Carolyn is giving us an extra day off and has cleared the schedule, so we've got an extra day to recover between the stag night and the wedding day."

                Martin looked sceptical. "How did you get Carolyn to agree that?"

                "Well, I emailed prinzessin.t@reg.vaduz.li, and I got Theresa to pull a few strings. While we'll be painting Fitton red, or at least a watery pink,  Carolyn be flying with Herc to watch La Bohme in the Royal Box at the Vaduz Opera House. It's part of the wedding celebrations."

                "But she hates opera."

                "That's why Theresa addressed the invitation to Herc, who is obviously over the moon. And she named them as Guests of Honour, as named in the programme for posterity. Even Carolyn couldn't say no. You should be very proud, you're practically marrying a supervillain. She's certainly got the accent and the mountain fortress."

                Martin nodded, impressed, but wasn't thrown off. "But who do I invite? I don't have enough friends outside you and Arthur, and Simon will want to come, and that's going to ruin everything. He'll drink me under the table."

                "I thought as much. Which is why called in a favour with an old acquaintance of mine from our AA meetings who works at the council, and although he's been invited, he's going to send him to Whitehall on a fact-finding trip that Thursday and Friday. He'll be out in time for the wedding of course, but only after he's racked up a hefty expenses bill and thoroughly explored the implications of EU subsidiarity policy on bottom-up planning incentives in agency relationships with local government."

                "So it'll just be you and Arthur."

                "Yes, and it'll be great fun. I've left nothing to chance, so there's nothing getting in the way of your last night of freedom. Well, second last night, but you know what I mean."

                Martin sighed. "Well, I'll come then. But if you've hired a stripper, I swear I you will never touch the cheesetray again."

                "Dammit. I'll have to cancel. And he seemed such a nice chap as well..."

                "Douglas!"

                "Joking! Joking! To be honest, it's not like Fitton's a hotbed of vice and depravity, there's hardly a surplus. But it's great that you're coming. I'd promised Arthur, and if you hadn't decided to come I'd have to escort Arthur around Fitton for someone else's stag night."

                Martin nodded. "Are you sure you'll be okay though? You know, with the drinking?"

                Douglas looked across at him pointedly. "Martin, I like to think that if I fall off the wagon, it'll be in slightly more distressing circumstances. I'm more than happy to stick to lime and sodas, maybe a diet coke or even a J2O if I'm feeling particularly racey. I've sat in enough depressing grey airport bars without being tempted. And besides, I think I'll be giddy enough from watching Arthur and you getting inebriated."

                Arthur's voice rang out from behind them. "I don't think I've ever briated anything in my life, Douglas. Sounds fun though. Coffee, chaps!"

                "Oh, thanks, Arthur," said Douglas, taking the proffered cup. "Good News! Martin's coming to his own stag night!"

                "Wow! That's brilliant, Skip! I can't wait! Who do you think's going to win out of us three then?"

                Martin shuffled to face Arthur in his seat. "It's not really a competition, Arthur. Just a fairly low-key night out in Fitton."

                Arthur frowned. "That sounds fun, but just to confirm, we won't be doing anything involving actual stags then?"

                "Thankfully not." said Douglas.

                "So there won't be races, then."

                "No. You haven't been on a Stag night before either, have you Arthur?"

                "No. Ah well, I'm so excited, even if we won't be riding stags."

                "Good to know. Although we have a few weeks yet, so don't perspire quite yet."

                Arthur shuffled out happily, as Douglas caught Martin's ashen expression.

                "Oh come on. You, me, Arthur, out on the town. What could possibly go wrong?"


End file.
